Five stages of fallout
by rubedi
Summary: "And I ask again, Are you really ready to see that?" his tone mocks her, but the darkness beyond his eyes feels like silk garrote over her throat. Suddenly Natasha is afraid she will also wish to crawl and hide in dark hidden place if Clint lets her in.
1. Fallout: intro

_ Sometimes you just have to write it down, otherwise it will never leave your head. _

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For them the fallout starts when physical manifestation of failed alien invasion are almost gone. Manhattan is cleaned up and building crews can be mistaken with ones you can see every day in thriving city. Businesses are open, people do not look to the skies with fright, instead looking to their smartphones. Almost like before skies were thorn open and army led by god attacked the city.

SHIELD is back too. Debriefs are over, analysts have reported, evidence has been deposited, R&D are having a field day playing with tech gathered. Even helicarrier itself is fixed and unless someone tells, there is no sign of battle and explosion.

Starks tower is back too and shines over city rebuilding itself. There is still some works on progress, but you can easily believe the construction crews are there to improve, not to rebuild after crazy god.

People have adjusted too. Captain America most of time is away, meeting vets and lobbying for their support. It is taxing, but you have to be blind to not see how pleased Steve is when he realizes he has an influence that do not come with fist or half naked woman dancing around him.

Bruce and Tony are acting like weird couple, where the demonic seducer Anthony uses his scientific villes and strategically placed drool-worthy lab equipment to lure Banner in science debauchery. Pepper are extremely pleased with their cooperation – 99% of their achievements are either too obscure, dangerous or meant just for avengers, but remaining percent are enough for her to plan new product releases for next few years.

Thor has shaken off the guilt induced depression and now is constant fixture in Starks tower that they yet cannot get themselves to call Avengers tower. It is possible that great role in getting Thor back in merry mode is played by Jane sharing star gazing nights on one of Starks balconies.

You could say that Natasha is ok too, she spars with Steve, appreciates innovations from scientists, keeps SHIELD desire to control avengers checked while keeping avengers independent, gathers data, runs analysis and now and then manipulates Steve or Tony in assembling avengers to solve one or other problem. You have to know her better then she allows most people, to notice that Black widow is thrown out of balance.

Even Clint has passed his tests, evaluations and initial therapy meetings with SHIELD's best shrinks in flying colors. Yes, he deeply regrets everything that happened while he was under Loki control, welcome, the report about suggested changes to cover weak spots in SHIELD protocols are delivered to Hill and Fury, Thank you, yes, Coulson was a good friend of him and Clint deeply regrets his death, No, you don't have to remind Clint that what happened isn't archers fault. SHIELD shrinks agree in one voice – the mind of archer is flexible enough to deal with this and they are confident Barton can be cleared for active ops beyond ones with Avengers (where no one asked their opinion) real soon.

You had to know him better then anyone else to see that Hawkeye is on verge of breaking.


	2. Fallout: Anger

"Why do you lie to shrinks?"

Natasha is impressed – she is sure her question come out of blue for Clint and yet his reaction are perfect mix of innocence, pot/kettle calling, pressure and threat.

"Like you do not lie to them, Nat" he smiles innocently and friendly with darkness lacing his voice. "Who still in her monthly session tell SHIELD the memories about her family that we both know are implanted in Red room?"

He saying it aloud should scare her. Instead Natasha appreciates – they are deep in desert with no living soul in closest hundred kilometers and EMP bombs they used during the day has turned technological spying devices to mush. So this is one of rare instances they can talk freely without half said coded sentences they use usually.

"You know it is different, Barton. I do get better on my own."

That pointed look could be patented and in most cases makes everyone receiving it obedient and compliant.

"So do I"

"I call bullshit, Clint." her eyes are flaming red with reflections of sunset and anger is almost palpable. There is great need to hit something, to hurt something or someone till the blood seeps between fingers and pain on knuckles replaces other type of pain, one you cannot rub away with anesthetic.

"You don't get better, Only thing you get better is hiding how bad you are" she lashes.

"Having a picnic in my head now? Specialist in what is happening inside it?" his anger matches hers, need for violence washing over like tide. They are face to face in primal fight for dominance and control, none willing to yield.

"Are you sure you can handle what you will see when you look deep enough?" Clints voice are smooth and even luring. "Are you sure that red room burned out even your deepest fears? Are you sure you wont run away scared?"

She isn't. But there are no choice, the tide of darkness in Clints eyes will take him over if she lets herself falter and then she will have debt that will weight more then all the rest of her credits together.

"You'll be surprised," she snarls, curling her tongue against teeth so that it comes with animalistic hiss.

They circle each other, seeking weakness, but none daring to make first move, oblivious to anything outside their trajectories. They are tuned to each others moves, so the attacks are small and fail to cause real harm. She quite don't reach nerve on archers shoulder, so arm is not paralyzed, but the bloody trails her nail leaves feels good too. He fail to hit her legs, so she do not fall down, where his greater weight would allow to keep her down, but the groan of pain she makes sounds like music.

Few more hits land on target with satisfactory thuds and sharp breaths they both take are indicators that no one are getting upper hand in this whatever they do. But still it feels and hurts so good that there is no stopping.

With punches, grips and scrapes they keep spiraling out of control and allowing their despair, fear and rage to wash over, taking and giving blows that telegraph to their bodies that other are alive, are there, are real. Especially vicious kick to his knee sends him down to sands and before he can get back up, they are kissing.

The kiss itself is more akin to punch then caress, full of sharp teeth, angry lips and punishing tongues. To anyone looking to them it would seem like two lovers in gentle embrace, hands traveling all over each other bodies, checking for injuries and begging forgiveness for pain delivered. Inside kiss taste like freshly drawn blood.

When need of oxygen pulls them apart they flinch away to safe distance.

"Getting better, my ass" she hisses, careful to not meet his eyes.

"Look who is fucking talking," he keeps eyes on endless skies where their back up should appear any moment from now.


	3. Fallout: Bargaining

**This is third version. I realized if I don't put it out as it is, ill keep messing with it and never finish. **

**Thank you all for reviews, they warm my heart. If you see any mistake, plot or spelling or grammar wise, please let me know!**

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"Agent Barton still has not picked up his bow from labs, can you pass it to him?"

Maria looks to Natasha giving no space to decline. Whatever the reason, Hill has decided that Hawkeye needs his bow, checked and rechecked in labs after Natasha threw it out of his hands while "re calibrating". It is surprising that Clint has not yet picked up his favorite bow, instead using way worse replacements, she clearly remembers missions where they were almost too late for evac because of time wasted searching for that particular bow.

Actually, it is lucky that she picks up the bow, not himself. Otherwise there would be broken bones and bleeding wounds , the bow is forgotten in back of lab, oily cleaning clothes throw on it and when whistling lab tech picks it up to give to Natasha, he overthrows coffee cup, soaking bowstring in brown liquid. Feeling like committing blasphemy, Natasha picks up sticky bow with bare hands.

Carrying defaced weapon Natasha tries to figure out where to find Clint. Ever since weird outburst and kiss in outskirts of Gobi desert, they are extremely polite and considerate to each other. There is no prodding, poking and bickering, just polite inquiries, suggestions and offers. And a lot of avoidance. Because really, politeness and minimal contact is greatest tool when you cannot fully ignore one another and bloody murder is not an option.

If Coulson would be there, he would take drastic measures to get them back in some kind of normalcy, but Coulson is rotting in cemetery that looks like straight out of romantic ghost story, with cast iron bars, white roses and moss covered gravestones. And she is walking through helicarrier with his partners abandoned weapon in hands.

"Agent Barton, I have your bow," she speaks same second as she notices his back, before archer has a chance to use his talent to sneak and disappear. He doesn't even spare a look.

"Thank you, agent Romanov, could you please place it in arsenal?"

"I'm sorry, what?" the answer doesn't make any sense. Barton letting his bow to be placed in arsenal? Same bow she helped to smuggle through countless police checkpoints, airports and even helicarrier security, just because the SHIELD standard weapon transport case was deemed unsuitable for it?

"Bow, agent Romanov. Could you please place it in arsenal along with other weapons, where it should be according to guidelines?" His voice would make Coulson choke in envy, he never managed to reach this level of noncommittal stiffness. And its one moment of confusion Clint needs to disappear in narrow corridors of lower levels.

Some understanding stirs in her, not yet finalized, closer to instincts then knowledge and this eerie feeling tells her that she cannot afford to keep bow away from archer. So Natasha breaks his entrance codes and camps in his room, strategically choosing position so that she can stop any attempts to leave room after noticing her.

"What the fuck!" His voice follows knife embedded where she was seconds before.

"What the hell this means? Decided that you had enough and developing death wish? What if I grabbed gun?"

"You always go for bow or knife"

He looks like shit. This is first time in almost week that she has a chance to observe Clint close, so changes hit her hard. His hair are bleak, eyes are red and sore with dark bags underneath. Most scary are the hands. They are not shaking, but have lost that calmness she remembers so well.

"Shit, you really look like you owe to death" Natasha voices her verdict. "And you are sloppy with weapons" in smooth movement she puts bow in Clints hands, taking half step back.

"Oh my god" is only thing he manages to say after realizing what abuse his weapon has sustained. "Who did.. why the.. are they..."

And then, almost like someone flipped a switch, Clint looks to bow like it turned to serpent and with very controlled movements puts on the table.

"Thank you for your concern, agent Romanov, I will take care of this" He even don't try to lie believably. It is obvious that same second she will be out of room, the bow will be out in trash.

"I don't think so, actually I think I will take bow with me," she pases hand to pick up weapon. No matter how ready he feels to throw bow out, he will never be ready for someone else handle his weapon so they grab it from both sides and descend in shameful childish thug of war.

"Whats going on here, Clint?" she asks not letting the weapon go

"Its question for you, Natasha. I am trying to pick up my bow. "

there is such longing and desire in his expression, along with ruthless war where Natasha isn't sure about fighting sides. One thing is clear, Clint wants the bow and same time will reject it in some weird penance. Realization hits her like blow in guts, taking breath away.

"Damn you, idiot! It is magical thinking you know that?" She hisses changing strategy. Instead of trying to pry bow away, she steps closer, still not letting weapon go. The change of direction has turned tables and now Clint even don't think about pushing her away, its chased animal seeking an opening for mad dash for exit, any option to run away, that she is determined to not give.

"I'm Russian, I recognize mysticism when I see it " she looks straight in his eyes, forcing archer to step back even more until he hits wall. Their hands still hold bow, now forgotten by both of them.

"What do you think, you will forgive yourself if you peel something from your heart and give it away? " she raises eyebrow to emphasize how stupid in her opinion it is.

"Or that its the price you got to pay? Is it offering to nonexistent god of mercy? Punishment?" She is close, he flinches after every suggestion, but yet she has not struck bullseye, the twisted core of reasons why poor weapon are about to become burnt offering.

"Bargaining chip for something?" they are so close that she feels tremor running over Clint as she pokes right in truth. "Bargaining for what?"

The silence is never ending, like in mountains after first snow.

"this cant undo whatever happened, Clint. No matter what you give up" Natashas voice is silent, flowing like silk.

"Nor bargaining will prevent something from happening. Only thing that can save something, someone are we ourselves," she raises one hand to his face, letting fingertips run over tired features. "trust me, I know."

When Clint bows head towards her palm, it feels like chased animal abandoning hopes for escape and giving in to mercy of whoever is running after it. Afraid to scare away moment, Natasha don't make sudden moves, just adjusts weight to hold him. Once he has started to move in her direction, it takes just seconds till they are locked in desperate embrace, where Natasha isnt sure if Clint is trying to hold her or bow. Or too tired to stand. Or all of that.

"I see you dead, stabbed with this very bow every night" his whisper is so silent that if they would be just a bit further, she would miss it.

"One more reason to not let it out of your hands. I dont want my enemies get it. And stabbing with bow? Loki has sick ideas what are not too much grounded in reality" she allows lip to curve in smile. The idea is ridiculous for calm mind, but taunting if you are on unstable ground. "Just think about it"

they stand in dark room unwilling to let each other go. His hand caresses slick curve of cold carbon fibre, her hold on weapon between them is loose, yet ready to pick up if he drops bow again.

"I am an idiot. You should..."

"You are." Natasha don't let him speak. "But you are my idiot and I am not letting you go."

There is something final about the way how she says it, holding his face in hands.


	4. Fallout: Depresion

**laws of physic, logic, moderation and character integrity were harmed and broken while creating this. **

**Just to be sure - if you have any potential trigger issues, I would suggest to skip this. Nothing too graphic, but still lot of talks about bad things that could happen and vague hint on even worse things about to happen. **

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Despite rumors, Natasha is not overly found of all things russian. Especially all things russian as americans see it, because they mostly operate with stereotypes and touristy crap, but this time, in elevator of the tallest building, standing over most iconic american city, she cannot help to think about matryoskas from her childhood. The wooden dolls you could pry open just to reveal another one hidden inside and then another one and then another.

But unlike cheerfully colored toy from her grim childhood, this time prying open one layer reveals more darkness, making her question how deep exactly this rabbit hole goes and what will happen when they finally reach very bottom of it.

Clint is not out of the woods after stint under Loki control. And so far all her attempts to bring him out went off in epic fireworks confusing even more both of them, bringing out things they both work so hard to keep tied and buried, feelings they masterfully subdue, secrets they both pretend to not notice, words they gag behind their lips. They fought, they kissed, they hissed, poked too deep in feelings, told things they knew is better left unsaid, exposed themselves to each other even more. And that brings them way beyond compromised, right to endangering their professional positions and lives. The elevator reaches roof, doors sliding open without slightest sound.

"Clint"

It is always wise to give additional warning to someone trained to kill before rational mind kicks in. Even if said someone is depressed and sitting on edge of Avengers tower. Actually especially then.

"Nat" he acknowledges her presence but makes no attempt to make space for her next to him. "Couldn't sleep?"

She shrugs noncommittal. She doesn't have nightmares like he do, Natashas cross to bear is insomnia. Usually that makes them good team – she keeps awake to keep his demons away and he keeps eye over her, when sleep finally takes over.

"Want to talk?" its she who cuts the polite chitchat. They both know Clint doesn't want to talk, but hey you can not get all you want. Natasha has made first step, he will have to follow.

"Not really. But this is not question, right? You are informing me, before scaling up interrogation techniques."

There is no use to deny truth or need to acknowledge obvious. Natasha is tired, angry and scared and she wants to understand why Clint is unable to put Loki episode in past. They have had failed missions with greater loses because of their mistakes and yet after licking wounds they both bounced back. But not now.

"you don't speak with therapists, don't get better on your own. Honestly, I don't see more options left to me. You'll have to talk to me." None speaks out about Coulson, who left hole in their lives that still bleeds and burns.

Clint is avoiding her gaze, eyes locked on hands gently stroking bow. It is like she isnt there at all.

"for fucks sake, cut the pity-party and grow up. I am asking again, what has you scared like puppy in thunderstorm?" Natasha looses patience and lets Black widow seep through, and Black widow is annoyed. In red room wallowing and cradling mental wounds leads to becoming cold corpse.

"And I ask again, Are you really ready to see that?"

his tone mocks her, but the darkness beyond his eyes feels like silk garrote over her throat. Suddenly Natasha is afraid she will also wish to crawl to hide in dark hidden place if Clint lets her in.

"I don't think we can choose anymore"

"Nat"

"I know it is about me. us. That is obvious. "slowly, intimately, every way you know I fear". My imagination works pretty well, thank you very much."

"Nat" that is more of plea then call. Plea to keep silent or plea to continue she has no interest to analyze.

"I guess there is pretty grim, disgusting and bloody scenario, must be rape, torture and some mutilation for fun and profit, pain spiced up with fact that it is you and me. Loki is one fuckingly lucky bastard, he made perfect pick," she laughs with that hoarse laugh that has no true joy.

"yes, he picked up most convenient minion, weakest link in chain" he still has not moved eyes from cold curve of bow.

"Clint. Bullshit. We were just compromised idiots thinking we are better then anyone else, ready for someone to step in and abuse our denial" She can admit that, their denial became bigger liability then emotions in open could ever be.

"I dont understand how you can be so calm about it," his voice is . "I had wet dreams about all ways I could break you."

"Many do" and that is true, but she knows that not many do have real shoot in succeeding. Clint does.

"I would start with kiss, gently sucking your lower lip, hand caressing your side exactly where that scar makes you extra sensitive, bite behind your ear and when you arch back, start to believe this and grind against me, break your neck, gently and precisely, so you live, but can just scream while I fuck you every way I wish and then pass around to everyone willing. "

She could vomit. Right here. Right now.

"Or the one where I cut off all your fingers, cut tendons of your legs, pin arrows in you like needles in sewing cushion and then use your blood as lubricant to fuck you while whispering in your ear what you already know – that you will never walk again, will never regain control over your body, will never heal good enough, so you better learn to be good little russian whore. Because I plan to carve you a bit more and when even death is not something you can deliver to yourself, sell you to your numerous friends. As moral gratification."

As a matter of fact, she does vomit. One thing is to imagine what Loki meant, hearing it said with voice she has come to trust without questions, is way worse.

"Or my personal favorite, the one where I fake inner struggle to string you along while having you like in those assignments from your childhood that still makes you scream at night... Fake strugling against Loki's hold so you do not shut off, but instead sharpen your senses hoping to help me?"

This is as sick as it gets and yet not surprising. Clint has unmatched ability to see and notice, the control they both exercise towards attraction and tension between them gives every tool needed to dig where it hurts. It don't skip her that every scenario involves sex.

"So, under mental control of god you planned to do some things that disgust you now," Natasha speaks up to regain equilibrium. "You are not under his control anymore"

"I wish it was so easy," his laugh is bitter and full of hate, directed towards himself. "It is like someone threw grenade inside my head and now everything that was there, mine, Lokis whatever, are one inseparable mess. Loki didn't tell me what sicks things to do, he just pointed me the direction and gave permission to do sick things. So am I so innocent as you all claim? If things I planned to do makes me wake up at night screaming?"

"Its not you," she whispers "Clint, I know you and it is not you"

"Not me? Then why every time I woke from those nightmares I have raging hard on and panic attack that I one day will find you bloody in my hands? Why I desire and detest touching you?"

"Clint just tell me what do you want me to do?" She feels like there is matryoshka in her hands again, layer of pain over layer of terror, never end at sight.

"Want me to tie you up and fuck till you cannot scream anymore?" It is serious offer, if he says yes, she will do it.

"Want to chain me and fuck till I am raw but still begging for more?" Clint must hate himself how his breath looses rhythm hearing it. She will do this too if he asks. "Just so you know I trust that those sick scenarios were not your wishes?"

"Want me to beat you up? Vice versa? Want it slowly? Want me to make you chicken soup and lie that nothing like that will happen again? Want me to kiss it all better?" She circles around him, standing on the edge, not going closer, but not increasing distance either.

"Want me to walk away and never see me again? Steal Loki and hold while you make hedgehog out of him?" The last part sounds decidedly tempting

"Want me to admit I love you?"

"Tasha,"

His eyes makes her heart stop. He has given up, she broke him, asked too much, too soon, desperate to understand what to give to make it better. And with sudden clarity, bordering on premonition, Natasha knows what will happen.


	5. Fallout: Acceptance

**_ Remember about abused laws of physics, logic and character integrity? still abusing them. Trigger warnings still in place. _**

**_To be honest, I am not very happy about this chapter, so might rewrite if I get better idea. If you have any - let me know, I greatly appreciate feedback. _**

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"I have a way out" there is so much warmth in his voice, so much acceptance, so much sorrow and worse of all – defeat.

"No, Clint, no, idiot" her voice is small, lost in the wind. He is on the edge, she is five steps away from him and nothingness he wants to fall in to, she wont make it on time. Not on time to stop idiotic archer with idiotic fondness for falling off idiotic buildings.

"Tasha, its the way" he clutches bow like security blanket. The quiver is propped next to her, where he sat before and that gives her small hope. Before she can run chances and risks, Natasha grabs arrow.

Her sudden move sets things in motion.

With a whisper that wind carries away, Clint steps backwards in to nothingness. Natasha lacks one step to stop him, but she is right on time to fall over edge with him, one hand holding arrow, other griping his tactical vest.

If Natasha would have allowed herself to think when grabbing arrow with hook and wire, located in special spot in his quiver, she would know that they have four seconds to shoot it, and even then there is decent chance that one or both of them will end up smashed on sidewalks next to Avengers tower and most likely it will be her, in soft top and jeans without tactical gear enabling hooking up to wire. Well this is surely unexpected way for Black widow to leave stage, but it doesn't feel wrong, so she allows a smile when looking for his eyes.

There is panic and rage in archers face, but there is also the calculating and planning look she missed so much.

"Hold" wheezing sound of flying arrow accompanies his order. The fact that she didn't noticed how he took an arrow from her hand should alert, but Natasha decides to ponder about that if she survives.

Following order, she somehow manages to lock hands around his neck and legs around torso. She might break his collar bone, but that will be small price for staying alive.

"Dura*" He rarely speaks russian and Clint doesnt have this urge to revert to russian swearing like she does, so this one is specially for her. The click tells that bow is locked with tactical vest, his hands snakes around her in lock behind her back.

The wire should hold them both, their tangle of limbs potentially could keep her from slipping in free fall and they must get lucky enough to crash in window, not concrete wall.

Not bad survival attempt for someone who few seconds ago was committing suicide.

The impact of wire stopping their free fall hurts, Clint whimpers as the vest strangles him and Natasha for a moment is sure that she will slip away and then it is over, the free fall pull is absorbed. Her arms hurts, so it is Clint who pulls her up again from dangerously low position she slipped.

Slipping in free fall or not, Natasha's body and mind works with clockwork precision, so when she is pulled up, Clints gun is in her hand and when they sway towards building, she is ready.

She has time to shoot four bullets before they crush in window, Clints back first, his face hidden in Natashas hair. The landing is quite brutal, her head bumps against desk, flower pot from it hits Natashas shoulder and soil from it covers them both.

"Sam durak" she whispers yet unable to keep smile out of her face. This is so silly, so idiotic that only thing you can do is laugh. She jumped after Clint, technically committing suicide, something so deep against her nature. Then Clint, who intended to die, did everything possible and few things impossible to avert their suicide. And now they both are alive in ruins of broken desk at empty Stark industries entrance hall, covered in mud and broken stalks from pot where designer red tulips grew. Natasha hopes that this floor is also hooked up to Jarvis so there will be no security running to check uninvited guests.

"What the fuck where you thinking, Nat? you fucking russian dumbass" He even looses the ability to speak for moment, just burning holes with eyes.

"What else could I do?" Clint is an idiot if he expected her to stay on edge and wave handkerchief while he becomes red splatter on pavement. Now he is in one piece but angry as hell what Natasha is willing to choose over depression any day.

"Do you realize that I barely managed to shoot in time?"

"Yes"

"The arrow lodged in marble and ¾ chances where that it will not hold our weight?"

"Yes"

"That vest almost tore?" He rolls over and now she is pinned under him.

"Yes"

"You could have slipped from my arms" there will be bruises where his hands are gripping Natashas.

"So could you" she looks straight back refusing to even consider regretting her decision.

"Tasha you..." the words fail, so instead he leans down and kisses her, hands still painfully locking upper arms. The kiss is not like one in Gobi, this one doesnt taste like punishment, this is full of promises. The noses awkwardly gets in way, soil from his hair are falling in her eyes, his hand slips, but they are oblivious. They are hugging in desperate motion to get as close as they can, desperate for denied taste, every thought whirling away in haze, leaving just them bare to the bone and then they are looking to each other breathing heavily.

Clints blood splashes all over lips and chin when Natashas right hook lands on his nose.

"You broke my nose" he licks drops from lips, grinning.

"If you ever do something like that again, I will simply walk to edge and empty clip in you" her face is deadly serious "This is worse then anything Loki could do, so if you think you will be able to get over this, tell me now"

Natasha herself isn't sure what she will do if Clint tells he will not be able to get over Loki. Maybe shot him here, neat, clean and painless. Or walk away trying to save whatever is left from her.

The universe stands still while Natasha waits for scales to tip.

"I owe you a debt. I love you." his voice is silent but sincere. "Is that enough?"

Debt she can hold so it will become cornerstone for Clint to build himself back, just like he held Natasha's debt for years while she were building herself around it. And love always have been between them, deny or accept that.

"It is start" she agrees, thumb wiping away blood from Clints chin. She wants to lick away red, but this time it is his call.

"Thank you"

"welcome"

somehow he is kissing her thumb, tongue darting and tasting own blood on it and that is enough to shatter her intentions of keeping distance.

Must remember remove security footage from archive is last coherent thought.

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* russian, female gramatical form for stupid/fool

** russian, "You yourself are fool"


End file.
